


Fool's Gold

by FoxInDocs



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: DJ Otabek Altin, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Otayuri Mini-Bang 2019, extrabek, otayuribb2019, recreational alcohol use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-27 14:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21393361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxInDocs/pseuds/FoxInDocs
Summary: “So, um,” Otabek shifts, crossing and uncrossing his legs, sits forward, leans back again. Yuri raises an eyebrow at the screen, as he finishes shovelling food into his face and sets his plate aside on the coffee table. He waits.Otabek huffs. “I signed a contract. A record deal.”Six years of friendship since they met in Barcelona. Their feelings run deeper, but their lives don't collide.
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, Yuri/OC (brief)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 19
Collections: Otayuri Mini-Bang 2019





	Fool's Gold

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to the Otayuri Mini-bang 2019!  
Big thanks to Mel [phylocalist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phylocalist) for organising the event!  
Also a big thanks to SamyGeeFox for the absolutly stunning art work.  
And finally a big thanks to my fellow writers, artists and betas for making my first bang such an enjoyable experience! (wow... that's... a heck of a sentence.)
> 
> This is, as I say, my first bang, and, in fact my first writing challenge ever, and it certainly has been a challenge. This is already the longest thing i've ever written by a significant margin and it's only the first chapter! Now that I'm in the swing of it though I'm really looking forward to completing this fic. Shoutouts to [iguanastevens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iguanastevens/pseuds/iguanastevens), [Faeryn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/faeryn/pseuds/faeryn), and [ crownedcirce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownedcirce/pseuds/crownedcirce) for advice, encouragement, motivation,s and beta-ing along the way
> 
> I expect this to end up with 3 or 4 chapters of similar length. It's not yet written but it is all well planned out, so fear not, it will be complete, but I can't promise any regularity of posting.

“Hey”, Yuri says, breaking the comfortable silence through a mouthful of stir-fry. On his laptop screen where it sits on his coffee table, Otabek is stretched out along his couch in soft sweats and black-rimmed reading glasses.

“Mm?” He doesn’t look up from his book, Yuri’s been stealing glances from behind where he’s scrolling on his phone, at the way his sharp features and the soft curls of his unstyled hair are limned by the warm glow of the lamp in Otabek’s living room.

“I was just thinking, you haven’t sent me any new mixes for a while. What's up with that?”

“Uh,” Otabek closes his book, setting it beside him on the couch as he slowly sits up, “um.”

Oh. So it’s a thing.

Yuri puts down his phone and shifts forward in his seat, but continues eating. He motions for Otabek to go on.

“So, um,” Otabek shifts, crossing and uncrossing his legs, sits forward, leans back again. Yuri raises an eyebrow at the screen, as he finishes shovelling food into his face and sets his plate aside on the coffee table. He waits. “I haven’t. Yura you can’t ..” he huffs. “I signed a contract. A record deal.”

“WHAT!?” Yuri screeches sliding forward off the couch to his knees to get in close to the screen, “BEKA THAT’S SO FUCKING COOL!”

Otabek winces and rubs dramatically at his ear “Sure, it’s not like I need my eardrums for my new career or anything, Yura.”

Yuri rolls his eyes, “I know your speakers aren’t up that loud. But seriously, that’s so great, tell me about it?”

Yuri listens as his friend talks about the opportunities he’s already been presented with and the support the label is offering in terms of writing and recording, and the resources he’ll have access to. Otabek can never be said to be animated, exactly, but Yuri is always mesmerised by his intensity when he talks about the things he’s passionate about. 

“Um. One more thing,” Otabek implores when Yuri starts to yawn, it’s past midnight in Almaty, Otabek should have gone to bed hours ago. “I have a gig at Calamity next month. Headlining. Actually. Will you come?”

“WHAT THE FUCK ALTIN!? OF COURSE! I’M FUCKIN’ THERE!”

* * *

Otabek wanders toward the baggage claim, he got Yuri’s text that he’d landed while he’d been stuck in the tail end of peak hour traffic. He can see Yuri, by the conveyer, his back to Otabek, and watches as he shakes out his golden hair, fluffing it out with his fingers, and then rolling his neck, obviously trying to stretch out after his flight; he’s prone to falling alseep in weird positions when he travels. Yuri must have his eyes closed as he does this because as he approaches, Otabek sees Yuri’s suitcase passing on the conveyor. He smirks to himself as he arrives at Yuri’s side, dropping an arm across his friend’s shoulders.  
“Isn’t that your case?” he asks, directly in Yuri’s ear.  
Yuri about leaps out of his skin, “SHIT Beka! What the fuck!?” he ejaculates as Otabek steps back, grinning, to avoid flailing limbs, but is quickly pulled into a tight hug, before Yuri scrambles after his luggage.  
He knows he’s still grinning like an idiot when Yuri returns, dragging the suitcase behind him but he can’t find it in himself to care when he sees the expression reflected on Yuri’s tired face.

Otabek lifts Yuri’s old leopard print case carefully into the trunk of his R31 wagon.  
“You can just throw it, Beka, I don’t think I’d notice another scratch at this point.”  
“Mhmm,” Otabek hums, “but I don’t fancy carrying all your shit upstairs when it disintegrates. When are you going to replace this thing?”  
“When I find another one as cool as this.”  
Obstinate fuck. Otabek rolls his eyes dramatically, and gets in the car.  
The drive home passes in relative quiet. Yuri lays his seat back and curls his long legs up against the dash.  
“Shoes OFF if you’re going to do that,” Otabek insists, as if he’d let just anyone defile his car like that, and turns the volume low on the stereo playing one of Yuri’s weird punk playlists. The hum of the SR20T is soothing as they hit the freeway and he enjoys the sharp little smiles that the sound of the spooling turbo always elicit from Yuri. If he hits the boost a little more often than is strictly necessary, that’s between himself and the engine.

They arrive home at Otabek’s apartment and Yuri heads to the end bedroom to stash his bags.  
“Wow,” Yuri says, arriving back in the living room, and flopping onto the couch, “it’s really like a professional recording studio in there now, sure you’ve got room for me?” he laughs.  
You’d be better off in my bed really, Otabek thinks, but keeps that to himself. “There’s always room for you here,” he tells Yuri instead, as he sits down directly on top of his legs where he’s sprawled on the couch, and hands him a glass of gin and tonic.  
"Hey!" Yuri squawks, wriggling his legs away, and almost spilling the drinks.  
"Well..!" Otabek explains, gesturing at Yuri's sprawl.  
Yuri just grunts, turning on the TV and curling his long limbs around a throw cushion. He puts on some documentary about tigers that he says he's been meaning to watch. It's interesting enough, and Otabek settles in for a quiet and comfy evening. He watches Yuri more than he does the TV. He sips his drink, and then another, and allows himself to dream a little about what it would be like to have this every day. Quiet nights with Yuri. And more, to be allowed to hold him, to run fingers through his hair, and have him close.  
Yuri catches him staring once or twice, but doesn't seem uncomfortable. He just smiles and turns back to the TV.  
The program ends, and they finish their third or fourth drink. Yuri looks tired.  
"It's been a long day," Yuri says, stretching, "I think I'm gonna head to bed."  
"Yeah, me too, " Otabek agrees.  
"'Night, Beka" he smiles softly and disappears down the hall to the bathroom.  
Otabek stares at his bedroom ceiling, listening to Yuri move about the apartment. He knows Yuri will never settle down, that the tiger will never be tamed, but it's nice to dream sometimes. He falls asleep dreaming of Yuri in his arms. 

* * *

With the skating season about to begin, they can’t afford to slack off on their training, so while Saturday is technically their day off, and they don’t have to be up nearly as early as they would for on-ice training, they do spend a good portion of their day at Beka’s local gym.

Baba Mila  
  
Saw your insta post. He could bench press you.  
  
HES SO SMALL  
  
are you okay?  
  
NO  
  
rip  
  


Yuri stands in the kitchen, supervising his steamed vegetables and grilled chicken, and texting Mila, while Otabek showers and gets ready for his gig.  
“Have you seen my cherry Docs?” Otabek calls, wandering through the living room in nothing but a towel, hair dripping down his neck.  
“By the couch.” Yuri’s impressed by how casual he manages to sound. He snaps a sneaky photo as Beka wanders back toward his room with his boots, sending it to Mila.

Baba Mila  
  
help  
  
Your boyfriend's hot, I get it.  
  
not my boyfriend  
  
dont tease :(  
  


20 minutes later Yuri’s placing two plates on the small kitchen table, when Beka arrives back, now fully dressed in fitted leather jeans, his cherry Docs and a tight thin cotton jacket, zipped all the way to his throat. His hair is artfully tousled and he’s wearing red and black eye makeup.

“So I’ll pretty much leave as soon as we’re done eating. I’m meeting Dastan, he’s helping me set up. I’ll see you there when the club opens?”

“Sure.”

Beka looks at his phone “He says he’s really looking forward to meeting you.”

Yuri huffs a laugh. “Tell him ‘likewise’.” And he is. He’s heard a lot about Dastan over the past six years since meeting Beka in Barcelona, though they’ve never met since Dastan has been studying in Australia. He seems like a decent guy. Yuri may even be a little envious of the relationship he has with Beka, having known him since childhood.

They finish their meal, and Yuri helps Otabek haul some equipment down to the car, before heading back upstairs to change.

Baba Mila  
  
hes wearing eye makeup Mila  
  
red shadow and black wings  
  
it looks so good  
  
low-key wanted to lick it  
  
Yuri. You need to get a grip.  
  
I KNOWWWW  
  
preferably of his dick  
  
BABA!  
  


Mila knows Yuri’s feelings for Beka are more than that but, shit, she’s not wrong. One way or the other, Yuri knows he does need to get a grip. He’s honestly not even sure if Beka’s into dudes, or anyone for that matter, Yuri's never known him to have a relationship. Even if he is, there's no reason to assume he’d be interested in Yuri that way.  
He digs through his case and pulls out a pair of black skinny jeans, and the new top he bought last week, it's black with a metallic gold leopard print and a cut out in the back.  
As he steps out of the shower it occurs to him that he didn’t even think to bring any makeup, he almost never wears it outside of competitions.

Baba Mila  
  
shit should i put makeup on?  
  
i didnt bring any but i can steal bekass  
  
Hell yeah you should, tf?  
  


Yuri rummages through Otabek’s medicine cabinet. He doesn’t want to go overboard so just opts for a small amount of artfully smudged black eyeliner and mascara.

He blow dries his hair upside-down for volume, and by the time he’s done it’s basically time to leave. He laces up his black Converse high-tops, sends a quick selfie to Mila, and heads out the door.

Baba Mila  
  
Get him Tiger.  
  
im not getting anyone shut up  
  


* * *

Otabek and Dastan have finished setting up the equipment and have been chatting with a venue coordinator in what passes for a green room at Calamity, when Otabek feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He whips it out immediately. “Oh, Yuri’s arrived,” he tells Dastan, “he’s outside.”

“Excellent! I finally get to meet your boyfriend!” he claps, bouncing up from where he’d been seated on the arm of a couch.

“Dastan. Please.”

“Alright, alright. Don’t get your knickers in a knot, I’m not going to tell him about your eternal, unending, ANNOYING crush.”

“I’m 25 years old, Dastan. I do not have a crush.” Otabek texts Yuri back as he and Dastan make their way back through the hall to the main room of the venue.

Yura.  
  
im outside  
  
You’re on the list, skip the queue, just show the bouncer your ID, I’ll meet you at the bar.  
  


“I’ve known you since you were 3, man,” Dastan insists, “and I know you’ve had a crush on him since you were 12.”

“I got over it.”

“You did not get over it, you just got to know him as a real person and fell in love with him instead.”  
Otabek can’t truthfully deny that, so he just glares at his friend instead.

He spots Yuri at the bar as they push through the crowd, beer already in hand. “There,” he points out to Dastan. Yuri’s smirking as he says something to a girl standing beside him.

“Damn, Beka, I knew objectively from the photos and videos you’ve shown me that he was good looking but he is something else in person, holy shit,” Dastan’s tone turns teasing, “look, my friend, If you’re never going to make a move, maybe I will.”

“Dastan. You’re straight.”

“I don’t know what to tell you! Suddenly I’m questioning!” he laughs.

“He has that effect, sometimes,” Otabek sighs, defeated. Dastan laughs again, punching Otabek lightly on the shoulder.

Yuri does look good though, Otabek observes, his black jeans are practically painted on. The black shirt draped gently over his torso shows off his trim physique, and the open back has Otabek’s breath catching in his throat. He’s a vision.

“Yuri, Dastan, Dastan, Yuri,” He gestures as casually as he can, when they reach the bar, while shouting over the noise of the club. Both men grin and shake hands.

“Yuri! Good to finally meet you, I’ve heard so much about you!” Dastan shouted, “Shall we find a seat?”

Yuri nods agreeably in greeting, not bothering to raise his voice over the noise and gestures for Dastan to lead the way.

As the headlining act, Otabek has a table reserved upstairs in the VIP area. It's quieter here so they're able to chat more freely while still enjoying the support act. Otabek is peeling the label off of his beer, and watching while his two best friends get to know each other. They seem to be hitting it off quite well, and it's a nice feeling seeing two people who are so important to him getting along.  
Dastan interrupts the conversation suddenly, nudging Yuri, and pointing out the small pile of shredded paper now sitting in front of Otabek.  
Yuri huffs, "huh, yeah I suppose the pre-performance jitters are usually taken care of by warm-ups!" he laughs.  
"Well!" Dastan announces, jumping up from the sofa, "I guess it's time for a dance!"  
Yuri grins, and shoves at Otabek to get up.  
The three of them move toward a small dance floor toward the front of the mezzanine, where they have a good view over the rest of the venue. A few people are already dancing there and the main dance floor below them is packed. Otabek freezes as he feels his nerves actually amp up just a little when he realises that most of these people are probably here to see him. This is not like a skating competition where he can pretend that they're all there for Yuri, or JJ or any of his other rivals. His breath catches, and quickens, but then Yuri's hands are on his hips. That doesn’t do anything for his breathing, really, but it’s distracting enough that he forgets why he was about to panic.  
"Hey," Yuri murmurs, and Otabek’s brain short circuits a little at Yuri's voice in his ear. "get out of your head. I know you've got better game than that, Altin. Loosen up!"  
Yuri is dancing close, prompting Otabek to move as well. As he relaxes into the heavy baseline that the current DJ is pumping out, Yuri backs off, leaving room for them to dance facing one another, while Dastan, having immediately found himself a partner, dances to one side of them.  
The support act is good. Otabek always enjoys moving to music, on the ice or off, but it’s always more fun when it’s music he really enjoys. If the way Yuri is moving is anything to go by, he’s enjoying it too. Otabek watches the play of the lights colouring his pale skin, and golden hair, and thinks about pulling him closer again. Yuri probably wouldn’t object, but Otabek would probably find himself wanting more, he always does, and it does no good to tease himself with possibilities of things he can’t have.  
Two women approach, then, maybe a couple of years younger than himself and Yuri. Most of the VIP area is taken up by wealthy club regulars, but there were a few tables reserved for VIP ticket-holders, and after years of dealing with the Otababes, Otabek knows fans when he sees them. He can practically feel Yuri starting to bristle, but he needs his music fans even more than he needs his skating fans right now. They seem kinda nervous, and he decides to put them out of their misery.

“Having a good night, ladies?” He calls over the music, beckoning for them to come closer.

They nod enthusiastically “we’re really excited for your set!” the shorter woman tells him.

“Thanks babe, I’m glad you could make it!” he tells her. He feels like he’s channelling JJ, but DJing calls for a different image, and his music fans need different handling than his skating fans. Over her head he can see Yuri’s eyes go wide in disbelief. 

“Could we take a selfie?” the other woman asks?

“Sure, Sweets.” he says, cringing internally, but he opens his arms for them to tuck into and smoulders appropriately camera. 

“We looked you up on social media,” the shorter woman is saying now, “how are you such a good DJ and also like the best figure skater in the world!?”

Yuri actually snorts at that. “Oh, you wanna make something of it, Plisetski?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at Yuri over the women’s heads. They turn to look at Yuri too.

“Yeah,” Yuri shrugs, “we’ll make something of it at the Olympics.” He saunters off back toward their table.

“You’re going to the Olympics!?” The woman squeaks.

“You did just say I was the best in the world” he winks.

“We have tickets for your next competition!”

That actually startles a laugh out of him, “Wow! I get skating fans who turn up to my gigs sometimes but this is the first I’ve heard of it going the other way! Thanks for your support.” He gives them his best approximation of a winning smile, then touches the one closest on the arm, “I have to go, but thanks for stopping by, have a great night.”

When he gets back to the table, Yuri is glaring. “Well that was fucking disgusting,” he grumbles, tossing back a shot of Vodka. “ When I said you had game, I didn’t mean that.”

Otabek shrugs, “Fans are fans, I need them if I’m going to make anything of this.”

Yuri doesn’t reply. Dastan arrives back then and falls into opposite sofa. “You better go get ready, Beka, it’s nearly time for you to go on! Break a leg!”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Do Not, break a leg,” Yuri informs him, waving a finger in his face “you still need those for skating. Davai.”

He gives Yuri a thumbs up, and leaves to start his set.

* * *

“So,” Dastan leans in across the small coffee table dividing the sofas they’re sitting on, “Having a good night so far?”

“Fantastic” Yuri grumps, not looking up from his phone.

Baba Mila  
  
there are fans here, Baba  
  
he was FLIRTING with them  
  
ive never seen him flirting before  
  
it was disgusting  
  
you’re just jealous  
  
damn straight  
  
There’s nothing straight about that, Yura  
  


Dastan has moved around the table, dropping onto the sofa beside Yuri, and tries to look over his shoulder at his phone. “Who are you texting? Girlfriend?”

Yuri shakes his head, moving the phone away from Dastan. “Just a friend. Not that it’s any of your business”

Dastan backs off, and pours another couple of vodka tonics for them from the bottle left in the ice bucket on the table. “I know you don’t know me well,” he says, handing Yuri one of the drinks, “and Beka’s said you can be prickly around people you don’t know, but this is a party Yuri! Have a drink, loosen up.”

Yuri accepts the drink, Dastan is Beka’s good friend, he should try to like him, and so far he’s not been too offensive. “Alright.”

“Atta boy. Set’s about to start. Wanna dance?” Dastan stands and offers him a hand up, which Yuri also accepts, and follows him to the dance floor.

Dastan starts to dance beside him, the previous DJ has taken her leave, and there’s some top 40 club track playing, but it’s one Yuri doesn’t hate so he begins to move as well. Dancing is a good portion of his job, but it’s also something he loves, and he soon loses himself to the music.

Yuri almost doesn’t notice as the beat evens out signalling the change of DJ, the bass continuing to thump though his chest as it has been all night. But then the tempo slows just slightly, becomes serpentine, and slithers up and down his spine like silk as the bass fades away to all but nothing. His movements slow with it, become fluid, almost as though he can feel the music flowing through his veins. That might just be the vodka. He can feel the anticipation in the room, in the crowd, as the music builds, faster, louder, to an undulating crescendo. When the bass drops it grinds though his very soul, hot and dirty, and fuck, he didn’t know music could make him feel like that! At the same time, a bright light prompts him to open his eyes (when had he even closed them?) and they land on the booth suddenly highlighted by the bright spotlight. 

He sends up his thanks to whoever is listening for the many years of strength conditioning that keep his knees from buckling at the sight that greets him there, because that is Otabek, but not like Yuri’s ever seen him before. Headset lying forgotten about his neck, Otabek greets the crowd with a smirk on his lips, one hand on the decks, the other raised and beckoning them to do the same. And…

“Holy shit,” Yuri gasps, “what the fuck is he wearing!?”

Dastan smirks. “Hot, right?”

“Fuck.” is all Yuri can manage in response, because the light jacket he was wearing earlier has disappeared to reveal a deep red shirt made almost entirely of a transparent mesh, black panels keep the garment just this side of utterly indecent but do nothing to disguise the tempting lines of tight abs and defined biceps. As Yuri catches the glint of rhinestones flashing in the coloured lights, he whips out his phone and snaps a photo of his friend. As he heads back to the booth (because god damn, he needs another drink,) he sends the photo to Mila.

Baba Mila  
  
[](https://i.imgur.com/yd1v1Zf.png)  
MAYDAY MAYDAY MAN DOWN  
HOLY SHIT!!!  
  
RIP  
  
  


He pours 3 shots into the small plastic cups provided, downs one, and heads back to the dancefloor, handing one to Dastan. They chink and drink down the shots together, and then they’re dancing again.

The mezzanine floor is only a little higher than the stage and runs along the side of the room, so they’re really not so far from where Otabek stands behind the decks.

“Where did he even get that thing!?” Yuri leans up to shout in Dastan’s ear, the music is much louder now that the main act is on.

Dastan slips a casual arm around Yuri’s waist to lean into his ear “his skating costume designer made it for him.”

Yuri shakes his head fondly “so extra.” Yuri’s used to touchy-feely people at this point in his life so he doesn’t immediately shove Dastan away, and since he’s a little tipsy now, when Dastan doesn’t move away again, Yuri settles for dancing a little closer, and why not. Like Dastan said, this is a party.

Yuri knows, from years of experience, when he’s being stared at, and he’s being stared at now. When he looks up with a flick of his hair, he finds intense brown eyes on him from across the crowd. He gives Beka a thumbs up, which he acknowledges with a nod. Yuri looks up at Dastan, who is returning their friend’s glare with a mischievous smirk. Yuri’s not sure what that’s about but it’s a good look for him.

It’s been a minute since Yuri was able to come to one of Beka’s gigs, and goddamn, he’s gotten GOOD. Yuri sways and twists in time to the beat. So does Dastan. He stays close and they dance together. Beka’s music is smooth and sexy. The lights are low. Yuri’s head is a little hazy with vodka. Dastan is warm and solid against him. As the crowd cheers and throws up their hands after a particularly sick drop, Yuri reaches up and pulls Dastan into a kiss. He starts a little, but then melts. Leaning over Yuri, he deepens the kiss. Yuri runs a hand down Dastans back to palm his ass, pulling their hips flush, and he’s unsurprised to feel Dastan’s a little hard in his jeans. 

Yuri loses a little time to dancing. And grinding. And making out. This wasn’t exactly how he expected his night to go, he came to Almaty to support Beka. Would it be wrong to ditch him for a guy? All these people are here to see him, surely he has better options than to spend the rest of his night with Yuri anyway. And Dastan seems like a nice enough guy, what’s the worst that could happen? A one night stand and a few awkward encounters later when they cross paths? Been there done that, not the end of the world.

Nipping at Dastans neck, Yuri slips a hand between them, palming the not-insignificant bulge in the front of his pants. Nice.

“You wanna take this somewhere more private?” he murmers. But Dastan gasps and steps away hands coming up to hold Yuri away. “Oh shit, Dastan, sorry,” Yuri hastens, he’s an asshole, sure, but he’s not about to assault anyone, “I thought you were into this.”

“No, shit, I’m the one who should be sorry, fuck I’m… I didn’t mean to lead you on. I'm not… I'm not gay. Or, like… Into guys."

Yuri baulks "Well," he glances pointedly at Dastan's still slightly tented jeans, "You could've fooled me."

"I'm sorry. I'm. Gonna go." Dastan all but runs across the mezzanine, and disappears down the stairs. 

Yuri, still reeling, goes to pour himself one last vodka tonic. He settles against a high bar table with a decent view of the stage to finish his drink, and watch the end of Beka's set.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading thus far! Your comments and Kudos will serve as motivation and help me to get this out faster, so don't forget to leave them ;)
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](www.tumblr.com/thefoxindocs)


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